


Everything And Nothing

by Anonymous



Category: Alles was zählt
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-03 05:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13334331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ingo grapples with both the aftermath of the accident and his illness.You want to tell her: “I won’t die. I wouldn’t dare. Pinky promise.”





	Everything And Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2015. Translated in 2018.

They are here and then they’re not. And you were just breathing in.  
  
Your vision blurs and your throat burns when you’re coughing up against nausea. Bea’s next to you, stroking your hair and mumbling something you probably won’t remember the next morning. The bathroom tiles feel cold against your naked knees. You hesitantly breathe out.  
  
  


_1987_  
Your Mom.

_2009_  
Mike.

_2011_  
Roman. Hase.

_2012_  
Nettchen. Your love.

_2015_  
Too many.  
  


You want to write, but you have no words. You pluck the strings of your guitar, but you have no melody. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you also don’t really have a reason to sing.   
  
You and the others meet on one quiet afternoon to watch Marian’s New Year’s Eve video.  
  
Ben hides his face in his hands, shortly after Julia appears on-screen. She’s looking for him. Her gaze is questioning, her clear eyes vaguely hopeful.  
  
Can, very slowly, almost deliberately, puts his arm around Katja’s shoulder. You’re sure she’d say _yes_ now, absolutely. Even without a proposal. Who needs that, anyway, here, in this room that's missing words entirely.  
  
A few moments later, in the video, Erik’s mouth disappears in the crook of Jenny’s neck (you blink a tiny tear away), while, next to them, Raquel moves to the beat of the music. And then there are Toni and Iva, both with a crooked grin on their face when Marian asks about their topic of conversation. “A secret,” Toni replies cryptically, still smiling, and bites her lip.  
  
Deniz’s gaze is unfocused during all of it. Almost as if he’s struck by lightning. Maybe he’s remembering something. Or perhaps it’s an image of from another life, something that was never allowed to happen here.  
  
At your side, Bea very quietly blows her nose at every sight of Julia. You have no idea how she does it, despite the loss, being here, being next to you, being there for you. Here with you and your Tyrosine-kinase inhibitors, your vomiting, the headaches, and all those other - _isms_. And her smile’s almost still the same.  
  
You want to tell her that you love her and just how much. Even when you’re having broccoli for lunch. Her beautiful dimples when you solve crossword puzzles together and you propose the silliest answer imaginable just to hear her laugh again. The cheerful post-its on the bathroom mirror, the seemingly endless number of tarot cards on your kitchen table. Not to mention the soundtrack of “Dirty Dancing” in one continuous loop.  
  
You want to tell her: “I won’t die. I wouldn’t dare. Pinky promise.”  
  
You want to whistle a song for her. Throw her over your shoulder and carry her over the threshold of your bedroom. Want to give her one big, wet smooch. Clean the fridge for her, even that rotting vegetable container. Or sit down to piss.  
  
(You want to do so much when you’re not currently too tired to just stand up.)  


 

_1987_  
~~Your Mom.~~

_2009_  
~~Mike.~~

_2011_  
~~Roman. Hase.~~

_2012_  
~~Nettchen. Your love.~~

_2015_  
~~Too many.~~

_201?_  
You  
  
  


You don’t know how often you’ve practiced your most stoic macho face in front of the mirror in the last few weeks. Or what it says about you that you still always fail at it. Then again, you haven’t been a misunderstood cowboy in such a long, long time. A cowboy, living on his own little island, sand in his boots and blues in his blood.  
  
These days, Bea’s voice is so terribly soft, mellow. Not like she’s almost crying, no, this goes deeper and sometimes it doesn't, rumbles in the belly. In these moments, you usually cuddle with her under the fluffiest blanket available, run her a bath, or whisper something dirty in her ear. How she needs you when she needs you. Because you know that she needs you and that you need her, that you two need each other.  
  
You’re not unhappy together. Never that. That, never.  
  
She’s told you that you’re getting a big heart of Mett for your birthday, with a fuckload of onions. In that moment, you guffawed. Then coughed. That’s the only way you’re currently able to guffaw.  
  
Sometimes you twirl your pills between your fingers, thinking: _You fucking bastard, you gotta make it just for that damn heart, do you hear me?_  
  
But no promises. Nothing that you cannot keep.  
  
But you make it to your birthday. See the Meyer-Zadek Mett heart. And oh, what a beauty.  
  
You embrace Lena, with her glittering, blue eyes, and you hunt Alex around the table with your birthday cake to the enthusiastic cheers of Bea, Katja, and Can. Afterwards, Ben, visibly moved by the whole ordeal, pulls you into a bear hug and almost doesn’t let go of you.  
  
Your feet are still always cold. You still take those fucking pills. Sometimes you hum while doing it, sometimes you don’t. Hum the beginning of melodies for new songs about those who you’ve lost along the way and those you didn’t. People who are still here, here with you to sing. And sometimes, in quieter moments, you just warble the most sugary four-line serenade you can spontaneously muster for the most beautiful woman in the world, your Bärchen, and you vow her your eternal love.  
  
The music comes back. Gradually, slowly. It’s itching in your fingers.  
  
You want to tell everyone: “I won’t die. I wouldn’t dare. Pinky promise.”  
  
But: No promises. Nothing that you cannot keep.  
  
You breathe in, close your eyes, and--this is the magic trick--you’re still there.


End file.
